Neutrals
by Lionfire42
Summary: What happens when you group a body-jacking terrorist, a sarcastic, twitchy two-wheeler, and a cyborg teenage lab rat with a temper problem? If you're Megatron, you see an all-new strike team. If you're Optimus, you see a group of dangerous misfits that must be turned-or killed. And if your them? You're running for your lives in a world where metal or organic means life or death.
1. Chapter 1

The creature was a horrible looking one. It's yellow optics glowed feebly and it's armor was dented, burned, and rusty. It was once blue, but now it was more of a grey.

It's owner hardly fit it. This was not to say that the owner had outgrown it; rather, the armor covered it like one is covered by a car. One one hand, a car can be a versitile object, capable of taking one places far beyond their dreams.

But in the wrong times...it can be a prison.

As he sat in the cell, all but forgotten, Cylas had no doubt what his armor was.

* * *

The two wheeler cursed her luck. It was bad enough that she'd woken from stasis on some weird organic world. And she'd thought her bad luck meter had been filled when the ship she'd awoken in had been that of the psycho spider that had put her in stasis in the first place. And had she mentioned the aforementoned psycho hunted people? And then put their heads on her walls?

But _no_, Primus couldn't give her a break. She had to be discovered and captured by the leader of the Decepticons. While this might have made her preen at the thought of how dangerous and generally awesome she was, it would have been far more epic if she hadn't tripped while attempting to punch the bucket-head.

Now she'd been sitting in a cell for who knew how long. She just wanted to...to...

Arcee could never finish that thought. A disadvantage to having not joined the army? No one cared if you lived or died, simply because no one knew you existed.

* * *

He was a monster, they said. Perhaps they were right.

He could still remember what he'd become, what creature he'd been. The feel of hot energon running between his teeth, his hands...

He was a monster.

He deserved all he got, his father had claimed as he was beaten. He deserved all he got and more.

His mother had never said such things. She never had to. Her silence was enough.

The silence had always hurt more than anything.

It hurt when he was beaten.

It hurt when he was not.

It hurt when those hands, those gentle hands of a nurse, had clamped over her mouth when it became too much, when the knife ran with his father's life blood.

It hurt in court.

It hurt on her only visit.

It hurt when she'd signed the papers that sealed his fate.

It was all he could think about as scientists labored over him, tested him, changed him.

They could hurt him as much as they wanted. Nothing they could do could hurt worse than the silence.

And now as he sat in his cell, surrounded by alien creatures, Jack Darby wished only for the silence to end.

* * *

Here we go again...

Please review! Plus, I hope to have a Stop the Clock chapter up soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Megatron could feel his temper beginning to spike. The energon raid had not gone as planned. Far from it.

Ever since the human government had decided to side with the Autobots, things had begun to go downhill for the Decepticons. Soundwave had eyes everywhere, but the humans had eyes on his eyes. The creation of bio-scanners made it difficult to pass through cities; if you weren't a registered Cybertronian, and you passed through, the entire city shut down. EMP bombs detonated, blacking out everything that wasn't protected by a certain frequency, aka Vehicons.

This made it difficult to go anywhere for energon, and even if they did find a cache, they often arrived to find it stripped and a trap laid. This had happened just hours ago, and Megatron felt the energon burns that covered his body ache.

Energon bombs were usually detectable with enough foresight. So the government had started a volunteer program: suicide bombers. And to the Decepticons everlasting horror, many accepted. The Decepticons were hated with a passion. There were songs and poems dedicated to bolstering the spirits of the Autobots and condemning the Decepticons to burn in some especially hot corner of the bottom of the Pit. Everyone wanted a chance to knock off some 'Cons.

Twenty volunteers had waited for them in the stripped mine, waiting until the entire group was in before detonating. Megatron managed to escape but the damage was done. Four squads of Vechicons wiped out. By _humans._ The Warlord had only managed to reach the landing strip of his ship before collapsing.

And now, having discharged himself from the Medbay, Megatron strode furiously onto the bridge, where only Soundwave stood, apparently searching for a cache. Megatron glared out the window. Silence reigned.

"Why?"

Soundwave turned slightly, having already heard this speech.

"Why, Soundwave? Why can't I, leader of the Decepticons, greatest fighter of Kaon-"

Soundwave allowed himself to drift slightly. The name part alone took a while…

"-can't I destroy a bunch of fleshy, squishy HUMANS!"

Soundwave twitched slightly. This was new. The spymaster watched with interest as Megatron cursed almost every Autobot he knew, some of the Decepticons, the human leaders, the leader' s mothers…

When the Warlord began smashing his head into the wall, Soundwave decided to step in. With a few taps of a button, he called up an internet video of carpenter ants tearing apart a dead jaguar.

Megatron watched it a moment. "Yes, there are many of them but-"

Soundwave called up another video, this one a cartoon were people set off rocks to create a tidal wave, effectively destroying the one coming towards shore.

"Use one…against the other?"

The TIC finally brought up several camera feeds displaying three prisoners aboard the ship. Megatron stared at the images.

"The femme," he murmured. "Inexperienced, weaponless…but fiery. And skillful to have evaded us so long."

"Cylas. The foolish human who sought to gain my favor by waltzing in wearing the skin of one of my warriors." Megatron's fists clenched, then relaxed. "But his satellite design was ingenious. And he's smart, having been able to apparently capture and study Cybertronians…" He frowned. "I didn't actually know he still lived. It seems Knockout hasn't gotten over the death of Breakdown yet. I will have to speak to him."

He looked at the last prisoner. "And the boy. The product of humanities experiments to combat us. He seems depressed, yet…angry. He fears the power given to him" He chuckled. "A wayward lab rat."

He straightened, staring out into nothing. "Perhaps these beings hold the key. All neutrals. All unwanted." He grinned, dentas glinting in the dim light. "All my prisoners. Contact Knockout. If these beings want their freedom, they'll do what I say-after a bit of a makeover."

* * *

**You know the drill: REVEIW!**

**...Please?**


	3. Chapter 3

"So…" said Arcee as she was lead somewhere by a company of Vehicons. "How's it hummin'?"

No answer.

"You guys get health care here? Thinkin' about joining. Really digging the colors."

No answer. Arcee grew even more nervous. They'd dragged her out of her cell and told her to start marching, refusing to answer her questions.

_I'm going to die_, she thought, panicked. _I am so going to die_.

They stopped next to another cell. Arcee felt a rush of relief. It was just a prison transfer. But her relief was short-lived by the prisoner that came out.

It was a mech, that was for sure. But his gaze was dead and unblinking, and he was covered in grime. His armor dented and his paint rusted. And there were enormous fault lines running across his chassis that looked as if they had been wielded by a drunken construction worker.

The mech moved in jerky, squeaky movements as he exited his cell. Vehicons moved swiftly to flank him.

Arcee was still staring at him as the troops began to move them forward-and jumped back in horror as he spoke.

"So Megatron has finally decided to kill me."

Arcee resisted as a Vehicon shoved her back in place. She didn't want to be close to this…monstrosity if she could help it.

The thing noticed her reaction and chuckled, the sound coming from his chest, lips unmoving. "Ah, I see you are not a Decepticon. You have no notion of my unique condition."

"What..?" Arcee squeaked. "What are you?" Good thing she'd taken that language mod in Airachnid's ship.

"I am a person whose hope for a better world…seriously backfired."

They reached another cell and Arcee craned her neck to look at the next prisoner. Then one of the Vehicons bent down and picked something up. As he rose, Arcee got a good look at the object. She blinked.

It wasn't an object. It was a person.

Dark hair hung down like solid oil, gleaming in the light. Sturdy blue material covered his legs, while his pale flesh was visible, pink and grey scars crisscrossing his body. His arms were muscular, but his frame was lean. Blue-grey eyes burned from behind their dark curtain. But Arcee wasn't looking at his features anymore. She was looking at the strange metal contraption attached his back.

The gears were shiny and polished, despite the small layer of dust upon them. There were numerous plates and angles which Arcee knew she didn't have a hope in possibly redesigning. She continued to stare at them as they kept walking. The contraption looked familiar…

Then a memory of riding down the highways came to her. The blacktop was warm and the sun was shining and all around her was the cheerful tweeting of…

Birds.

The boy had _wings._

That…was so not fair.

"Interesting," murmured the not-alive-yet-still-walking-mech. He too was staring at the metal wings. At least, Arcee _thought_ he was.

They finally came to the bridge of the warship, which Arcee gathered to be enormous. Its owner stood with his back to them. When the prisoners were released, the Vehicons backed away, with the exception of the one holding the human boy. A moment of silence passed, and then the Warlord turned to look at them, red optics burning like a demon from some devilish forge.

He walked back and forth in front of them, sizing them up. He stopped in front of Arcee on his third pass.

_Wonderful…_

"Neutral!" he barked. Arcee jumped back in fright. "Designation Arcee. You've impressed me. We do not often not know who people are. Most of the neutrals in the war were petty, fearful politicians who ran like cowards. They couldn't tell a sword from a stick. But there is no record of you anywhere." He leaned close. "Care to explain why?"

"Err…is that question optional?" As soon as she said it, Arcee wished she could crawl into a nice, safe corner. Damn her mouth!

The Warlord's arm whipped forward, intending to slap some respect in this impundent two-wheeler. But all his arm went through was empty air. He stared for a moment before his eyes travled to the frightened femme trying to hide behind the bulky blue corpse of his fallen warrior.

The other officers on the bridge looked at each other. None had even seen her move.

After a moment, Megatron chuckled slightly, then a little louder, before breaking out in roaring laughter.

Finally, his laughter ceased, though he continued to chuckle. "You are full of surprises, femme. I know of how you came to this planet at least. I find it hard to believe that Airachnid managed to capture a bot so fast."

Arcee plucked up her courage. "It was kind of an accident, Lord Megatron. I didn't actually believe the planet was dying until it was almost to late. I wanted to kind of see which side of the war I had a better chance of surviving in."

Megatron stared at her. "I assume you picked the wrong one."

"Not really. I wanted to see how the Decepticons were first because there was an outpost close to where I was."

"But?" pressed Megatron.

Arcee looked sheepish. "I got shot at."

Megatron crossed his arms. "And the Autobots?"

Arcee shrugged, now quite sure she wasn't about to lose her head. "Met an old friend of mine who was in the Autobots. Kept wanting me to join before, but I'd refused." Arcee seemed to sense honesty was the better course to take. "After the shooting mishap, I decided to see how the Autobots operated. But my buddy must have been holding some sort of intel, because Airachnid jumped us." She rubbed her face, where a thin burn was visible. "I found out just what torture felt like. She didn't seem to get that I'd hadn't actually joined a side yet. Eventually, I think she damaged my systems so much I fell into stasis. Guess she thought I was a sort of prize, because next thing I know, I'm waking up strapped to a wall in a busted ship with the crazy bot dismembering some human outside."

She looked at the Warlord as a thought came to her. "Say…where is Airachnid?"

"That is none of your concern."

Arcee shrugged and leaned back on her heels. "Hey, as long as she's not around, I'm cool."

Megatron turned his attention to the human clutched in the Vehicon's servo. "Human. You became something your kind is not. You annihilated eight of my warriors. What are you?"

The boy looked at him, not a trace of fear in his eyes. "I am Jackson."

Megatron leaned close, making the black and purple soldier squirm. "I asked _what_ are you?"

Jackson released a bark of laughter, startling the silver warrior. "What makes you think_ I_ know the answer to that?"

Megatron's fists clenched. Jackson noticed and laughed again. "I'd love to see you try_ Lord_ Megatron. In fact you'd be doing me a favor."

He suddenly stopped laughing and leaned forward, a gleam in his eyes. "But I think there's a better use for me, don't you? After all, who do you think created the bio-scanners?"

Megatron's optics widened. Jackson smirked. "I have no love for the government, or humanity for that matter. I'm willing to help you-at a cost."

"What makes you think I want your help, human?" Megatron snarled.

Jackson snorted. "Please. Media inflates things, but even I can tell that you're starting to lose. I can read people. And as much as you try to hide it, I can see you're starting to become desperate." He leaned back again. "Desperate enough to ask us for help."

He wiggled out of the Vehicon's grasp with amazing strength. He dropped to the floor easily, and turning his back on the stunned Megatron walked right off the bridge. "I'll be in my cell if you need me."

Megatron snarled at the empty air. His concentration had been broken, his intimidation tactic destroyed. He'd been humiliated in front of the entire bridge.

"Put her back in her cell!" he roared, pointing at Arcee. The guards complied quickly, not wanting to face their master's wrath.

Taking several deep breaths, Megatron glared at Cylas. "And then there were two. We have much to talk about. And you best appease me, Cylas, because _I am not in the mood for games_."


	4. Chapter 4

Arcee winced at the sound of metal striking metal behind her. The Vechicons, hearing it as well, hurried along the warship's corridor's even faster. Arcee struggled to keep up.

She still couldn't believe what had happened on the bridge. Buckethead had almost taken her head off! He was just like every other mech: cocky, arrogant, prideful, and worst of all, sexist.

So what if females were a mistake? So what is they were the minority? Didn't they have a right, a voice?

She remembered screaming those same words to the Council, remembered them shaking their heads as the Peacekeepers dragged her from the room.

Arcee snorted to herself. Peacekeepers. So much for _their_ efforts. Look what had happened to their precious Council.

The procession halted suddenly, and Arcee stumbled. The drones used her momentum to hurl her bodily into her cell, before slamming the door shut.

Arcee lay on the cold metal floor, bitterness, fear, and overwhelming exhaustion paralyzing her muscles. What was the point, her processor whispered. What was the point….?

"You just going to lay there?" a soft voice with a slight drawl made Arcee's head jerk up. There sitting impatiently on the cell berth was the human boy, his metal wings once again capturing the two-wheeler's attention.

"How-"

The boy cut her off. "I'd be a poor genius if I couldn't figure out where they put you." He leapt from the berth, his wings expanding and catching an invisible thermal of air, slowing his descent.

Arcee lowered her head back to the floor. "What are you doing here?" she asked, voice muffled by the metal.

The human's voice was right by her head when he spoke again. "You seemed like the more approachable of the two. I usually don't try to make friends, but…" Here he hesitated, before continuing reluctantly. "You are a member of a world that I have no knowledge about. The Autobots may have had a chance at winning this war, in the beginning. But they have grown complacent. Their Prime's morals have become compressed, and he makes excuses to himself that everything he does cannot be wrong. The population's worship of him fuels this inaccuracy."

"Uh…okay. Look kid, I just want to go-"

The teen laughed. It was a sound that would have made Megatron shudder. "Go where? Home? You have no home! This is all that's left!" His voice dropped to a whisper. "And believe it or not, but that body-jacker is the only thing keeping us from death. He and Megatron have crossed wits before. He plays his cards right, and I have no doubt that whatever task is laid before him will include us. Just…keep your mouth shut."

Arcee was tempted to hit the human, but she had a sneaking suspicion that a swat wouldn't do anything more than return to her ten-fold. Plus she hadn't thought of anything better, she admitted "And if he doesn't play his cards right?"

"Do you have any weapons?"

"No."

"Special skills? Hacking? Martial arts?"

"No."

"You're screwed."

* * *

Cylas smirked grimly from within his metal prison, as energon dribbled from his vessel's wounds. Megatron didn't know it, but dying, or offlining as they called it, would be a blessing. He cursed his stupidity. Why had he killed the men who actually were loyal enough to keep him alive? He had been so drunk on the effortless power given to him, he'd made one of the biggest mistakes in his career. And now he was a virtual prisoner on his own prosthetics, trapped in a tight, foreign body. The chassis was dusty, grimy, and unwashed. Rear panels stank of bodily fluids and feces. The energon was strained and sustained him, but he craved the feel and taste of real food.

Megatron picked him up by his neck cables, which wasn't exactly painful per say, but the wires that acted as his nerves told him it should be, making it very uncomfortable. "Now that my rage has been sated, I have a proposition for you.

"The Autobots don't know you still live. As far as they know, you're dead or off the grid. In fact, none of my prisoners exist, according to files. The femme was never recorded. The boy has records only in the deepest, most limited bowels of human government. His existence would never be revealed to the human's "allies".

"I offer you a chance: pledge loyalty to me and lead a team made up of you three. You will be amongst the most covert operatives in my empire. You trackers will be under the most encrypted files given to few, namely Soundwave and myself. You will be given a better body and an array of weaponry most only dream of."

Megatron leaned forward. "I remind you, this is your only chance at life, something humans seem to cling onto so desperately."

Cylas found his voice. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

Cylas made his vessel kneel, rusted faceplate pointed to the ground. "You had me at _chance_, Lord Megatron."

The warlord smirked triumphantly. "Now I'll leave it to you to…_convince_ the others to join you in your choice."

"No worries, my lord. I have a feeling they were simply waiting for me."

* * *

**Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Cylas was quiet as he was led towards the place where the demon who called himself a medic was located. Knockout. The name was enough to send chills through his body, both of them. The cursed creature that had prolonged his suffering, made him into a punching bag. He hated the arrogant red mech, and he had no doubt that 'Con would seek to make him suffer even more. Perhaps he wouldn't make the former soldier slip into the abyss-he wouldn't dare risk Megatron's wrath- but Cylas had a feeling that whatever "makeovers" Megatron intended, he wouldn't be unconscious during their creation.

"Hey,hey! Watch the paint!"

Cylas internally sighed as one of his new "partners" joined the party of his guards. She was being dragged by two other Vehicons, while a third held Jackson. Arcee was quite vocal in her displeasure, while Jackson simply didn't seem to care. Cylas bit back a groan-this was worse than working with new army recruits. At least they sort of knew what they were getting themselves into when they signed, and none he'd ever met had joined up for any other purpose than that they'd wanted to. Plus they were human. His own.

But this was ridicules. Arcee didn't seem to have ever been in a fight in her life, nor did she seem able to learn discipline. Jackson reeked of discipline, and judging by the scars, had seen his fair number of fights. But he was still a ruffian, and arrogant, the kind who saw others orders as rules made to broken should they get in the way of their ideals. They were not military material. He couldn't work with them. Except…he didn't have a choice-did he?

Jackson kept his eyes closed on their short journey to the Medical Bay. He was using his exceptional hearing to listen beyond the heavy footsteps of the soldiers and the two-wheelers complaints to hear through the metal walls. Sound traveled through them up and down and he caught snatches of conversation as they walked.

"D-78666 was offlined the oth-"

"Did you see Twitch do that loop? He avoided a shot from _Optim_-"

"Did you see that stuff Lord Megatron found? Made me-"

"-blood of Unicron, I heard."

Jackson's wings stiffened. Unicron? They knew of the Voice? He supposed it made sense. The creature was not a god as it claimed, but perhaps a powerful Cybertronian. He'd have to do more research…

And then they entered the Medical Bay and Jackson's fists clenched. He prided himself on his stoicism, but the white face sneering at him from above with its blood-red eyes made him relive some very…unpleasant experiences with knives.

And the red medic leering at him brought no sense of consolation.

"Well, well," he purred, stroking his white faceplate contemplatively. "Lord Megaton is most generous. I haven't had a chance to examine you for quite a while." This part he directed at Cylas. The man, or rather, the armor, twitched violently at the words. The mech smirked and turned his attention to Arcee.

"A femme! I haven't seen one since Airachnid. And I must say, techno-organics aren't really my thing. But you…" he licked his lips. "You're _feist_y I've heard. After your makeover, if you're feeling lonely, you should come back. The med bays always open."

Arcee snorted. "I think I'll pass."

"That's what they all say," the creepy medic pouted. His optics drifted over Jackson, and then whipped back. "What is Primus's back strut are you?" he blurted, briefly losing his suave character.

"Your new student, Knockout." Megatron loomed behind them suddenly, and the medic, Knockout, flinched as if the warlord's words were devastating strikes.

"My lord! I-I didn't see you there. Um, what's this about a student?"

Megatron plucked Jackson from the Vehicon's servos and dropped him on a berth. "You will instruct him in the care of Cybertronians as you make modifications to his comrades."

Knockout eyed the human, and the strange contraption attached to his back. "But-With all due respect, my lord, he's a…he's a _human_."

"Do I look blind to you Knockout?" The Decpticon leader loomed over Knockout, sharpened dentas flashing dangerously.

"N-no, my lord."

"And do I look stupid to you?"

Knockout bowed his head. "No, my lord."

"Then perhaps you would know better than to question my orders!"

"Of course, my lord," Knockout chanted. "Never again, my lord."

"See to it that you don't." Megatron turned away, then turned back. "Oh, and Knockout?"

"My lord?"

A silver sword flashed in the bright light, blinding all who looked upon it. The tearing metal filled the room.

And then it was over, and everyone stood amongst the wreckage of the Vehicon and Eradicon guards, their visors flickering with dying light and their energon dripping from the sword of the mech they'd sworn to serve. The only one who remained unscathed was the Vehicon who held Jackson. He stood, shivering in shock at his comrades' demise. A dribble of a brother energon slid slowly down his mask, but he dared not move to wipe it away.

"As of now, the existence of these three, is a priority secret. None in this room may speak of them." Megatron glared at them all. No one spoke not even Jackson.

Megatron continued. "ST-3V3 here will remain a servant and your communication to me. " He glared at the poor droid, as if he assigning the role of caretaker to the Vehicon was his fault.

Giving a glare to the room in general, Megatron turned and stormed out of the med bay.

Knockout stared after him and then at his patients, then back at the door, then at the lone Vehicon, then the door, and finally at the bodies on the floor. "If I can't tell anyone, who's going to clean this mess up?!"

* * *

**Short, I know, but I'm trying to catch up on my more neglected fics.**

**Review Please!**


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